A Most Helpful Hand
by ClaireLilyP
Summary: When Mr. Darcy comes to Netherfield for a short visit, Mr. and Mrs. Bingley think it wise to mind his comfort and, of course, Elizabeth's.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hello! This is my first story, hope you enjoy it. It is a 'Lady C did not happen' scenario, which means Jane and Bingley married and Elizabeth is settled at Netherfield with them, but still unmarried. There will be a total of four chapters. Thanks to PutItBriefly for kindly betaing my story!

* * *

"My dear," said he, "you are a vision. Is it possible for me to love you even more in the evenings?"

His lady smiled at his reflection in the mirror and blushed prettily. "I should like to believe so."

"Well, I do."

She arranged her golden curls in a long plait, then slipped the dressing-gown off her body. Awaiting her, was their large bed and, upon it, her man. She cuddled to his body, the warmth welcome during those chilly evenings of late February.

"You flatter me too much."

"Is it not the duty of a husband? Either way, your beauty is enchanting and growing each day."

"I cannot take the whole responsibility of that. Happiness, I think, improves the appearance."

He rewarded her with a gentle kiss on her lips. Then, a comfortable, calm silence settled upon them. That lasted until a long sigh shook his chest. "Jane," he began, "although I find your sister as delightful as ever, she does appear troubled. If happiness influences the looks, she may not be as happy as I believed."

Jane eyed him fondly. "Your concern for Lizzy warms my heart."

"She is you favourite sister. I like her as much as you do."

"Of that, I am very glad. However, I fear you may be right."

"Is she not happy here at Netherfield, then?"

"She is happy to be living with us. Her sentiments on that score are rather clear, but I am afraid she quite is anxious these days and it is due to your friend's visit."

"Darcy? I was under the impression they had formed a friendship of sorts. They were quite friendly at our wedding."

His lady shifted away from her embrace and sat on her knees. "Lizzy is the sort of person to secure my peace of mind by exerting herself. I believe their acquaintance _did_ improve, but, Charles—oh, I suppose you _are_ ignorant of an important part of this story."

"Is there a story?"

"Has Mr. Darcy not told you of the time they had spent together in Kent, last April?"

"I only know of a quarrel."

Then, you can see why Lizzy may be uncomfortable. Being forced in the company of a jilted suitor must be distasteful."

Bingley's eyebrows raised high in his forehead. Oh, no, he did _not_ know. "Darcy, jilted?"

"Oh dear," Jane's dainty fingers covered her mouth in distress. "You are ignorant of it."

Jane felt guilty. Disclosing intimate details of her sister's life was so unfair! But this was her Charles, Lizzy's fretful brother, not a random stranger prying in personal matters. She gave a faithful account of what Lizzy had told her. A rejected proposal, the following insults and accusations, their awkward meeting at Pemberley, and Lizzy's anxiety when both gentlemen had returned to Hertfordshire that fateful autumn.

Bingley listened, mouth agape. "Upon my word, this is unbelievable!"

"I know."

"That old dog never said a word! A proposal of marriage! A _dreadful_ proposal! What was he thinking? Poor Lizzy."

"She was rather cross, but, Charles, I do think she is not as vexed as she used to be, nor she is as decided against the gentleman. There is no need to fret about her."

Bingley considered her words. "Had I been aware of this affair, I would have never invited Darcy."

"Lizzy is a sensible woman. She would not openly display her dislike. She is very attentive to civility and she would not indulge in petty behaviour. You need not to concern yourself on that."

Bingley sank back in the cushions. "Jane, I still wish I could mend that. Mayhap I should rescind my invitation."

"You cannot, Charles! He is your friend and you must welcome him in your house. And you need his counsel about the managing of this estate."

Bingley rubbed his weary eyes. What an unfortunate mishap! "You are right, my love. It pains me, however, to give Lizzy a hard time."

"We could—well, we could offer some help to them."

"Help?"

"Mr. Darcy has kindly accepted your invitation, but he must feel as uncomfortable as my sister does. As hosts, we ought to mind their comfort. We should endeavour not to leave them in one another's company to avoid any embarrassment. Mr. Darcy is to be busy with you and your steward anyway. Our efforts must be directed to leisure time."

Bingley grinned. "That is a splendid idea. Being thrown in each other's company often would be so dreadful for them!"

Jane nodded and was happy to relax back against his body. "It is shortly more than a se'nnight. We shall put our best efforts is this endeavour—they do not need be to fret over each other's company."

Her husband agreed.

* * *

Three days later, the sister in question studied her reflection in the mirror with careful eyes.

She had put a painful amount of time in her choice of attire. Flirtation was in her mind, yes, but behaving unseemingly, she did not wish to. The simple, morning gown of a candid peach shade was becoming on her figure. It was a far cry from the pretty sight she had presented at Jane and Bingley's wedding, but she was satisfied.

Last night, Mr. Darcy had finally arrived at Netherfield.

His arrival had been expected, but not _that_ night. How unfortunate she had retired early! She had not been there to welcome him properly. She had been in her chambers, fancying to flirt with him, to laugh with him. That morning, a sense of faint panic struck her when her maid had informed her of his presence.

How many times had the hopes for a renewal of his addresses been crushed by now? In autumn, he had come to Hertfordshire with Bingley. She had thanked him for his unprecedented kindness towards her family, he had been polite—though, not gracious in accepting her gratitude. Then, at the wedding, he had been warm and friendly, but, _again_ , he had disappeared shortly after. Were he to refuse any alliance with her, she would not fault him. If his affections had survived her harsh rejection, they could not withstand a connection with Mr. Wickham—he was only human, after all.

Elizabeth left her bedroom, and in a flutter of excitement dashed down the stairwell. If only her heart would be still! It had been _so_ long since her eyes had laid on his dear face.

The effect was immediate. He was alone in the breakfast parlour, busy with a newspaper, relaxed and unguarded in a big chair. Her gaze indulged on his fine figure and on his dear, handsome features, perhaps a little more than it was proper. Warmth swelled in her heart, mixing with the butterflies in her stomach, with a delicious anxiety that only his presence could evoke.

"Miss Bennet!" Darcy quickly stood and bowed. The newspaper was swiftly discarded. "Good morning."

With a brilliant smile, she curtsied. "To you, sir." Elizabeth took her usual place at the large table. Jane and Bingley were nowhere to be seen and—how silly!—her cheeks felt as if they were burning. "It appears, I must be the one to welcome you to Netherfield. Excuse my brother and sister, please."

He returned to his seat. "I must be the one to be making apologies for my unanticipated arrival. The roads were in a good state and I seized the opportunity."

"Oh! Pray, have you already broke your fast?"

"I was waiting for my hosts."

"You must be famished after the long journey. I am sure a cup of tea can be forgiven."

After asking for coffee, he turned his attention back to her. "How is your family at Longbourn faring?"

"Very well, though it is a rather desolate place in these days. The absence of three daughters is felt keenly."

"I can imagine," he smiled, just slightly. "Mr. and Mrs Bingley adore you. It is not a surprise you relocated here."

"They are all that is good. And your sister?"

"She remains at Pemberley. She is very well. The holidays were good on her spirits."

The image of Pemberley bubbled up in her mind. It must be even lovelier in winter, with a light layer of delicate snow adorning the beautiful grounds and the parks. The edges of the noble stone gentled by the softness of snowflakes. Would she ever be as lucky to see it with her own eyes?

"Good Heavens! Darcy, Lizzy—what are you doing?"

Darcy was swift in standing, again; and bowing, again.

As the host stood unmoving with a dumbfounded expression, the hostess graciously curtsied. "Welcome to Netherfield, Mr. Darcy. I hope your journey was uneventful."

"It was, Mrs. Bingley, thank you. The roads were in a tolerably good state."

The couple was quick in joining the others. Elizabeth could only offer an apologetic smile. "I am sorry we began without you."

" _I_ am sorry we left you—Darcy, that is—alone."

"Yes," Jane agreed. "We shall be more punctual, to-morrow."

Elizabeth's nose wrinkled. "I am sure it is of no consequence."

Bingley grinned at his friend. "Old chap, you must eat—you must eat a lot. I plan to keep you outdoors _all day._ You see, there are some fields I need to show you. My steward is still undecided about the crops. I should like to hear your opinion on the place, as soon as it may be."

The saucer clinked loudly as Elizabeth put down her cup. "It is freezing outside, Charles."

"Nonsense, Lizzy! We are robust men, fearless of the hostile winter! This is what being a responsible master means—am I right, Darcy?"

The poor man frowned. "I suppose."

Jane reached over and patted her sister's hand. "Lizzy, they are busy. You know my husband cannot wait to be learning more about the management of the grounds. Your concern for their health is admirable, but the fabric of winter garments serve the exact purpose to be a stout shelter from coldness."

It was fortunate that the topic was dropped and moved to London's ugly desolation in winter.

At length, Bingley was _truly_ excited about receiving Darcy's counsel. He stood up, bowed to the ladies, then dragged him from the breakfast parlour, as soon as the special guest announced his hunger was sated.

A frown of confusion plagued Elizabeth. With a thin curve of her lips, Jane only shrugged her shoulders.

* * *

From the large window of the sitting-room, the grey sky loomed menacingly. No doubt, the air was sharp and crisp outside, yet Elizabeth longed to be outdoors.

Spending the whole day crouched on ribbons and stitches was everything tedious. She shoved her needlework in the sewing basket and relaxed back on the cushions of the sofa. "Pray, Jane, what is about Charles's enthusiasm for the grounds? I believed him to be in capable hands with Mr. Allenby."

Jane's eyes did not leave her own labour. "Mr. Allenby is a formidable steward, but he should like to learn more from Mr. Darcy. He esteems him so! Being the master of a vast estate, with many years of experience on his shoulders, is a guarantee of high counsel. This why Charles invited him to Netherfield, I assure you."

"Indeed. Mr. Darcy is a good friend and he must be in possession of many words of advice to share. The matters of estate and land hardly fit in the list of a lady's accomplishments, yet I should like to listen to his praised wisdom!"

The other looked up, distressed wrinkles at the corner of her eyes. "You are _not_ forced to listen to Mr. Darcy's speeches about such matters. They do not concern us, dear."

Dear Jane was the perfect mistress of the household. Perhaps, she was simply disinterested in pragmatic topics such as the choice of crops. Standing on sore legs, Elizabeth claimed, "I should like to venture outside."

Jane muttered something quite unintelligible.

Elizabeth casually enquired, "Do you know where the men have gone to? I thought—I may bring them some fruit or refreshments. They have been out for all day."

With a small start, her sister's blue eyes finally tore from the elegant _CB_ stitched on the immaculate handkerchief. "I know not. Charles did not mention any direction in particular. Oh, it is cold outside! You better stay here and warm yourself, my dear."

Had Jane already forgot the existence of the much-praised winter garments?

"I am sure the men will be back in a short time, Lizzy."

And, in fact, the men came back less than one hour later. Bingley had ruddy cheeks, but wore a broad grin. Darcy's face, however, bespoke of nothing but weariness. Without their great coats and hats, the gentlemen appeared ruffled, cold and in need of a steamy cup of tea.

As Jane exchanged pleasantries—and scolded Bingley—Elizabeth found the reddened tip of Darcy's nose the most endearing object in the room.

"Sir," she addressed the gentleman and gestured towards the couch in front of the fire. "Pray, take my place close to the fireplace."

He bowed stiffly. "I thank you, Miss Bennet, but I would not deprive you of comfort and warmth."

His gallantry pulled a smile from her, along with pleasant flutters in her belly. "I insist. It would be unfortunate if we allowed you to freeze. I am sure, not even a kind soul like Miss Darcy would forgive us if we returned her brother turned into solid ice."

But Darcy was nothing like ice. On the contrary, the grateful, handsome smile she received had the effect of summer air on her. "Thank you."

As he sunk among stuffed cushions, she leaned against the mantelpiece. "You must tell, Mr. Darcy," she bid cheerfully, "about your celebrated skills at taking care of your estate. I happen to be as curious as Charles."

A full eyebrow arched. "Celebrated? I am afraid all I have to tell about is quite tedious. I could bore even the most eager of audience."

But Bingley and Jane loomed over the pair, clipped smiles on their countenances. With only a hint of edge in her melodious tone, Jane said, "We better go and change in our evening attire. It is almost six."

"I thought we could ring for tea before that."

Bingley gladly chimed in, "Pardon, Lizzy, but I am famished and I am sure Darcy is as well."

Elizabeth's shoulders sagged. And, as if the disappointment of the interruption was not enough, her dear sister's hand had already trapped hers and tugged her from that warm, cosy corner.

To Mr. Darcy, Jane only smiled beatifically, "I have called for tea for you and Charles, sir. Please, excuse us."

Not prone to petty displays, but also not keen to be swayed, Elizabeth found herself quite frustrated as Jane guided her to the staircase. In a huff, she whispered, "Jane, that was— _why_ such hurry?"

"I feel guilty because my husband kept my guest busy all day—Mr. Darcy must be hungry and I do not wish to have him wait more than necessary."

 _That_ was understandable, but it hardly gave any solace to a frustrated, besotted, impatient sister. "You are a laudable in your efforts to be caring and kind, but—"

With a frown, Jane spun to face her. "But?"

"But, that was quite rude!"

Jane resumed her path. "I am sure dear Mr. Darcy will excuse my behaviour, once a hot dinner is served on time."

* * *

Dinner was a success. Or better, the soup was. Steamy and hot, it was the most appreciated course of the meal.

The mistress was satisfied. Her sister, a bit less so.

After that, they gathered in the drawing-room. Bingley monopolised Darcy's attention with a game of whist. At least, the ladies were allowed to participate.

Elizabeth's hand was unfortunate. Luck was still nowhere to be found during the third round of the game. Her brow wrinkled in disappointment, she gave a loud sigh. "This is ridiculous."

Bingley chuckled. "Losing again, Lizzy?"

"Let us just say I am grateful we made no wager."

"Oh, dearest!" Jane leaned to her and peered down at her cards. "You seem to have no luck at all to-day."

Elizabeth's smile was more rueful than accommodating.

"If remember correctly," Darcy interjected, "you are not fond of the particular past time."

Bingley's hands greedily moved on the cards on the table; he was going to win this game. "It is a wonder she agreed to partake to the game. She usually prefers other occupations."

The other gentleman's cheek coloured just slightly, and his gaze settled on the unlucky player. "Last year, when you came to Netherfield to attend Mrs Bingley in her time of illness, you always avoided to take part in these activities. You prefer reading, if I am correct?"

"I most certainly do," Elizabeth admitted. Her personal preferences were still in his mind! "As you see, I am not a great player. But I _do_ enjoy some diversions of the kind."

Jane smiled fondly at her. "You see, sir, the fault is ours. My father provided us with a beautiful chessboard, but I am unable to play, and Bingley lacks the patience for it. Lizzy grew up in my father's library, therefore she is acquainted with the game and likes it more than cards."

"I see."

Bingley was happy to gain another victory. Another round was not suggested, much to Elizabeth's relief.

"Miss Bennet," Darcy bid, as his long fingers absently shuffled the deck. "I would be honoured if you were to agree to a game of chess with me."

"Oh!" Elizabeth's eyes lit up at the suggestion. Was Luck beginning to side with her? Was there hope? "I should like a match with you very much, sir!"

"Well then—"

Eager as she was, her legs stood too quickly, the chair was almost knocked over. "The chessboard is in the library. Will you—"

"Darcy, you _cannot_ do that."

The man turned to his friend, surprise widening his eyes. "Pardon?"

As Jane snatched the deck from elegant hands, Bingley blushed at his own dare. "What I mean is—well, you cannot go in the library with Lizzy, you see, because—"

An angelic hand from the Heavens came to Bingley's rescue. "My husband, forgive him, is quite rude. We are of the opinion to retire early, if you agree."

The younger sister's annoyance surged quickly. Patiently, with only the smallest hint of exasperation, she began, "Jane, dearest, surely it is too early for—"

"Have we expressed our regret in keeping Mr. Darcy busy for the whole day?" To Darcy, she explained, "You must be extremely weary, sir. We all wish you a fruitful rest and the earlier we do just that, the better."

Her husband was quite happy to side with her, and, "Darce, to-morrow, another occasion to play chess will present itself, I am sure."

As the three studied their poor guest, waiting for his reply, Darcy grew tensed. At last, he admitted: "Of course, I must say I am—yes, I am quite tired. Forgive me, Miss Bennet."

The woman crossed her arms on her chest and slumped against the hard wood of the chair. How utterly unfair! "Do not mention it," she willed a cheery tone. "My sister is right indeed—better to indulge in some reinvigorating sleep."

The thought of Bingley and Jane commanding Mr. Darcy to sleep, as if he were a child, should have been appallingly hilarious, but all Elizabeth could think of was how decided against her Luck was.

* * *

"We did well."

Her husband confirmed that and snuggled closer to his wife. "We have been quite successful."

Jane doused the candle on her bedside. "We should be more mindful of good manners, though."

A smile and a kiss later, and Bingley confessed, "I enjoyed very much your managing of Darcy, your delightful want of deference. He is not prone to be ordered around for sure, but seeing your sending him straight to bed was—a rather unique sight, dear."

"I would have never dared such thing," Jane sighed, "if necessity did not require it. A game of chess between such spirited persons is out of question."

"I must say Lizzy is a truly dignified lady. Her conduct towards Mr. Darcy is so welcome and friendly! She must be putting so many efforts in concealing her discomfort."

Jane pondered his words, then, "My sister, I believe, is really being considerate towards us. She has no wish to cause any tension in the house. She always preaches my goodness, but she is not at all wanting of such virtue."

"Oh, poor Lizzy! She has little to fear—we are always willing to lend her a most helpful hand!"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I am _blown away_ by the response to this story! Thanks to each one of you who commented, who favourited and followed this story, or just dropped by to take a look! I appreciate it heartily! I am so, so happy you liked the first chapter of my silly story! Aaand here is the second chapter. I do have some fears about it because there is a _tiny_ shade thrown to a certain popular P &P adaptation. Hope its fans will forgive me and enjoy the chapter anyway! Again, thanks to dear PutItBriefly, who corrected all my English horrors.

* * *

The following day brought a clear sky, the bright sunlight and a renewed hope.

The solitary evening in her chambers had given room for despair—born by an unending sense of frustration—but such an attitude was not made to last. There were full days ahead to be in the company of the gentleman.

With high spirits aiming even higher, Elizabeth had left for her usual ramble before breakfast. So early in the morning, the air was fresh and crisp, blowing on her cheeks. Soon, the warmth would melt the morning frost. She lingered about the parks, letting her eyes flutter at the the timid sunlight filtering through the bare limbs of the trees.

Spring would come, sooner than later, perhaps. What was certain, however, was that Luck _had_ come. On her way back to Netherfield Hall, Darcy's unmistakable tall figure was ambling about the main path in the shrubbery.

"Good morning, Miss Bennet."

She could not help the big grin on her lips. "Good morning!"

"I see it is still a habit of yours, to walk before breakfast," he observed, and held his arm up to her. "May I join you?"

How pleasant was the warmth of the rough cloth of his greatcoat—and how well her hand fit in the crook of his arm! "I was making my way back to breakfast. And you, sir? Has your energy been restored by the much-needed sleep?"

"Indeed," he glanced at her with amusement lighting his eyes. "I have to admit, a more caring and attentive mistress for his household, Bingley could not find."

"Jane has always been taking prodigious care to her younger sisters, it is no surprise such attentions have moved to her guests."

"I understand the feeling."

"Your sister, how is she faring?"

"Very well. She adores Derbyshire in the winter."

"Would she like Hertfordshire as well? You could take her to Netherfield, the next time you visit. I should like very much to see her again. Jane would adore her, surely."

"And," Darcy smiled, "she would be in safe hands, in your sister's company. Regular sleep and abundant meals."

Another merry laugh bubbled from Elizabeth. Darcy had abandoned his stubborn reserve and gravity he had displayed last autumn. Now, she could skirt around him in lightness and playfulness.

But the walk was soon over. The tall gates of Netherfield House loomed nearby, closer at every step. Assaying her courage, Elizabeth asked, "I was wondering, sir, if you remember you owe me a game of chess?"

"I would not forget it."

"Do you particularly object against a game right after breakfast?"

"I have no objections to starting the day with physical and mental exercise."

She did not relish to let his arm go, but did that nonetheless when the servants held the large doors open to the main entrance of the house.

But, _apparently,_ there has been an uproar of sorts. For some reason, the Master and Mistress were fretting in the breakfast parlour.

"Lizzy, Darce!" Bingley cried, as Darcy bowed to a distraught Jane. "We have awoken without your being here."

"Charles," Elizabeth sighed. "You know I have been walking every morning since the day I removed from Longbourn."

Bingley blushed and it was Jane who came to the rescue. "Excuse our tardiness. _"_

"I cannot believe we have been late, _again_!"

The mistress guided the confused pair to the table. "I would say, let us commence breakfast."

"Yes!" Bingley held Elizabeth's seat. "Pray, let us get over with it. Darcy, we ought to hurry! My steward and the grounds are awaiting us."

At the breakfast table, Darcy raised a protest. "I thought we had explored a good part already. Is there something else that requires our urgent attention?"

Bingley shifted, gaze cast on the empty plate before him. "A pond."

Elizabeth's face scrunched up in distaste. "A pond? You mean the pond edging with Mr Thompson's estate?"

"Yes! That one."

Darcy nodded. "You are fond of fishing."

Bingley dismissively waved his hand. "That pond is unfit for such purpose. It is all muddy. I believe its dirty waters are hostile to any kind of life."

The other gentleman stared at him blankly. "I do not see how such element could be exploited with some valuable results, then."

Jane interjected, "But the pond is not as unfortunate as Charles says. There is plenty of life. Lizzy used to go there and catch frogs when she was a child—oh, those poor frogs."

Treacherous sister! Elizabeth cried, "Jane!"

Darcy's wary gaze moved among the three, back and forth, laden with a combination of confusion and wariness. "Frogs cannot be considered a proper fishing choice, Mrs. Bingley. And Bingley—I fear I am at a loss about this pond."

Jane smiled at her sister's scarlet face. "Oh, I know _that_ , sir. Lizzy used her bare hands."

Bingley laughed loudly—treacherous brother! "You must have ponds of such nature on your grounds in Derbyshire too, Darcy. What do you do with them? They cannot go wasted."

His guest shrugged his shoulders. "When I was a boy, if the weather during summer permitted it, I used to bathe with childhood friends in a small pond. It was clean, not at all muddy and the waters warm. But I have _long_ abandoned such an uncouth practice."

Bingley grinned. "Oh! A swim in the summer! It sounds marvellous!"

With severe eyes fixed on Bingley, Darcy put his cup down. "It is _extremely_ uncivilised. As a landowner, you cannot jump in a pond on your grounds and happily stroll about in drenched clothes, Bingley. And since the waters of the pond are unfit for any form of life, I advise you to stay far away."

"Of course, Darcy, but it could be cleaned, I suppose? To—er, to improve the panorama?"

His friend seemed still unconvinced. "I suppose."

Rubbing his hands, Bingley sprang on his feet. "I will have the horses saddled at once!"

As he wandered off with a dangerous eagerness, Darcy offered an apologetic smile to Elizabeth. "Our game of chess must wait some more, Miss Bennet."

While Elizabeth cursed Bad Luck again, Jane, for her part, seemed glad to have her sister for herself. "I am sure there will be another occasion. And, Lizzy? You should definitely finish that lovely rose you began to stitch yesterday."

 _As if_ her time had been occupied by any other activity!

* * *

At the end of that day, Elizabeth's spirit had been, again, thrown under her feet.

How was it possible Jane and Bingley were always present, on _every_ single occasion, with some ridiculous excuse to wrench Darcy from her?

It was ridiculous!

* * *

The following day, she barely saw Darcy. Bingley had dragged him to visit some estates bordering with Netherfield Park for no apparent, sensible reason. While they had been busy with the landowners, Jane had kept her—oddly—at the pianoforte in the music room.

Then, after dinner, the Mistress had ordered the division of sexes for the rest of the evening.

In the music room ( _again!)_ , Jane sighed loudly. "I can barely tolerate the smell of cigars, and Charles wished to offer some to Mr Darcy."

Elizabeth frowned. "They could join us later."

"Oh, no! Do you not find the smell of cigars terrible? It remains on clothes for hours."

"But—"

"It is better we remain here." Jane smiled, and busied herself with exploring music sheets. "The men do need some time for themselves!"

The men had been in one another's company for the whole day! As Elizabeth sat in a bewildered silence, in that desolate, solitary music room, the realization struck her hard. _That_ was not Bad Luck at all!

She was a fool, a dreadful, blind fool! How could have she ever blamed Bad Luck when the culprits were Jane and Bingley?

It was painfully clear they were exerting themselves in _separating_ Darcy from her. But _why_ would they behave such a way, it was beyond her. Why would not they welcome a friendship, if not an alliance—as unlikely as it was—between two persons so close and dear to them? They should be _supportive!_

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed to observe Jane as she babbled about some foolish melody. Her _dear, beloved, angelic_ sister was blatantly adverse to her sister's happiness.

* * *

The day after the realization—and after dinner, after no final division of sexes was forced on the whole evening—the small party reunited in the main drawing-room. Jane, with her poor music skills, could only sit on the bench of the imposing pianoforte. She offered to turn the pages of the music sheets as Elizabeth played.

And play, she did. Her fingers moved with nervous energy, jumping between white and black keys. She dared a peek at Mr Darcy. Bingley's ridiculous excursions must have exhausted him, for he scarcely had opened his mouth to speak a word. He struck her as distraught, if not little sullen. His eyes had laid on hers many times, but never had they held any resemblance of that familiar, delicate glow she much adored.

She could not divine his thoughts, but _that_ was a bit discouraging.

"I find your playing much improved, Lizzy," Bingley praised from the large settee. "Your performance is lovely."

"You flatter me," she replied, her fingers never faltering. "But, Charles, I cannot take the credit all myself. You have been very busy with matters of the estate, and you do not know my dear sister has greatly aided me."

Next to her, Jane shook her head. "Hardly, Lizzy."

"Now, this is too much modesty! She prevented any distraction to come in the way of my practice! For she sat with me, yesterday, the _whole_ day! Could I wish for a more upright companion?"

Her sister flushed scarlet. "I do not deserve such praise!"

Teasing Jane felt _so_ wrong, in spite of the recent discoveries. But she said, "Not at all. Your steady encouragement spurred me to focus on music only, for hours and hours _."_

"Then, you deserve the praise, my dear Jane!" Bingley cried. "And, Lizzy, I should like to hear you play in public, too!"

"I thought you heeding of my feelings, Charles! But that is not the point. You should be the one to organize a soireé with the neighbours. I believe you visited them to-day. Tell me, how are they faring?"

Darcy interjected, "We went to inspect the pond again."

Elizabeth glared Bingley. "I can hardly understand your fascination with that awful thing."

It seemed, he had no arguments to contradict those words and opted for silence, an awkward, strained smile twisting on his lips.

However, Darcy gazed at her with a neutral face, features impassive. "The pond supplies a dignified home for small animals. Frogs were rather abundant."

Elizabeth felt her face on fire.

And that was the end of her evening. Shortly after, Darcy announced his intention to retire and wished everyone a restful night.

As he left the room, Elizabeth's eyes—inevitably—followed him. The melody, finally, faltered. Her shoulder sagged under dismay, under disappointment. Was it truly a lost cause, then? "I may be retiring as well," she muttered to Jane. "I fear I am quite fatigued."

"Of course, dear."

It was a white lie; it was too early to claim real weariness. Low spirits, however, were taxing. Instead of heading to the stairwell, she turned to the library. Determined to quell any unpleasant emotions, she hoped printed words would provide comfort to her battered heart.

And, along the path, she _almost_ crashed into Darcy.

He checked himself and she staggered backwards. "Forgive me, sir!"

"Er, no apologies needed," he hesitated slightly, then held a volume in front of her. "I see we had the same idea, to-night. Pray, go ahead. I was retiring to my chambers."

"Oh, wait! What did you choose, if you please?"

Bingley and Jane's unmistakable voices came from the bottom of the hallway—louder and clearer as seconds went by. If they were found, the hosts would order them to their chambers at once.

Years of education, years of learnings about well-breeding and _politesse_ paled in front of that rare opportunity. And boldness, she did not lack. Elizabeth's hand hastened to snatch Darcy's. She tugged him inside the warm, dimly-lit library and, as soon as they crossed the threshold, her palm pressed at the door. It closed, luckily, with a quiet noise.

Darcy's hand slipped from hers. "Miss Bennet?"

She laid her head against the door with a faint noise, followed by loud sigh. "Were they to find out we are here, they would send us to bed."

Silence fell over them like a heavy blanket. Scant seconds later, Jane's and Bingley's voices broke it, as they came and passed, until they were entirely unheard.

"Yes," Darcy, at length spoke, with a measured, quiet voice. "But they may have a reason to behave so. I kindly request you to release me from the library, madam."

Her arms crossed on her chest and, lost in her irritation, Elizabeth ignored his last words. "But they cannot treat their guests as if they were adults dealing with children! Such rudeness, such insolence!"

"Miss Bennet, _please_ , allow me out this room."

"It seems we are not even permitted to have a quiet talk or enjoy a game of chess! I have anticipated being in your company, but it is clear I am not _allowed_ to such thing."

" _You_ anticipated my company?"

"I have been hoping to have a moment with you! And it is utterly impossible!"

She spun on her heels and met his dumbfounded face. The confusion plaguing his features, his blank eyes, that frown—it finally dawned to her that her awful whining sounded much like an unwitting confession of her affections.

Her heart must have skipped one full beat, if not two or three.

Darcy cleared his throat, his book already forgot on a small table nearby. "Yesterday, as we were busy to visit the local landowners, Bingley revealed to me you have been distraught during the days prior my arrival. He, ah, he is apparently aware of my—of my rejected proposal…"

That pulled a loud gasp from Elizabeth. "Jane told him!"

"And imputed your discomfort to _my_ presence here."

"But that is untrue!"

He looked at her askance. "I do appreciate your politeness, but there is no need to deny it."

"I would be honoured if all of you people paid me the compliment of consulting me before deciding _my own_ opinions! I cannot believe it! Even Jane must be convinced of this lie!"

"Miss Bennet, Bingley and your sister care for you deeply. Your state must have been a source of great concern to them, it is perfectly reasonable to think—"

"Their thoughts are obviously misguided. I cannot deny my anxiety was due to your arrival, but it was because…" she swallowed. So, this was _her_ moment. She had not planned for it to be driven by frustration, anger and a good dose of exasperation. Where was the silly flirting? The batting of eyelashes, the teasing smiles? "Because, sir, I was anticipating your return in Hertfordshire so much, I was so—so happy _,_ yet exceedingly uncertain and apprehensive of the best conduct to adopt in your presence _._ "

It seemed, the import of her speech did not quite reach him. His brow was still wrinkled, his mouth was slightly open, but silence reigned. She could not fault him; that love confession was so _ugly_! It lacked any delicacy and finesse lady were supposed to display—and elegant ladies were not _even_ supposed to give such an open show of their feelings! Shameful, wretched, dreadful thing!

Her hand trembled as it stretched to curl around the door handle. Her legs could not bring her away fast enough—not before her _poor nerves_ crumbled to dust.

But _he_ did not share the idea. "Not so hasty, Miss Bennet!"

His command chilled her to the bone and froze her in place.

" _Happy,"_ he repeated, voice raw. "You are happy _?_ Would you kindly explain—?"

What was there to explain? She dared to face him—right there, he waited for her, with wide eyes, and tension written all over his dear, handsome features. Her breath caught. " _I am_ happy that you are here. I am happy that you have come, even though you did not come _for_ me. If this is unpleasant to you, I will—I can promise I will bother you no more and I will be completely silent on this subject."

"I would rather have you," he replied, "very eloquent."

And then, his hands reached for hers. The grasp of his fingers held a nothing but determination. It was an odd kind of enchantment—the glinting, heartfelt delight in his eyes cutting through the dimness, through her dizziness.

"Miss Bennet," he shook his head, then, with a grin, " _Elizabeth,_ loveliest Elizabeth. When Bingley told me my presence was so unpleasant to you, I had readied myself to disregard any remaining hope. I was under the impression your behaviour bespoke of friendship and warmth towards me. But I have been in error about you so _many_ times in the past—"

A whirlwind of emotions and Elizabeth's heart fluttered, danced, until it ached in delight. "Mr Darcy," she bid laughingly, "you should have asked my opinion! Jane and Bingley are not sources worth of your trust!"

Bare knuckles grazed at her cheek with tenderness—the same tenderness reflected in his gaze. "Yes, indeed, the lack of direct communication between us has never do us any good."

"Yes," she leaned further in his touch. She looked up at his face—his handsome, dear face. "You now know my mind and heart, sir."

"And, surely, you _must_ know mine. My wishes and feelings are unchanged since last year."

With that, he lowered his mouth to hers.

His first kiss was nothing but a fleeting graze, but his lips returned to hers again and again. Her mouth parted to taste his breath, her fingertips caressed the line of his jaw. The skin was slightly rough, but it was solid, it was warm. It was not a fancy whispered in the pillows of her chambers, not an haphazard of her imagination. It was so exhilarating, to have been so close to defeat only to be kissed back into delight.

"Elizabeth," he breathed against her parted mouth, "are you decided to marry me?"

As he trailed light kisses along the white column of her neck, she laughed—faintly breathless, but definitely joyful. "You need not to ask, sir. You know the answer."

He found her lips again when he hauled her into his embrace. In the warmth of his arms, in the sweetness of his kiss, yet another giggle escaped her. _Yes,_ he knew.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Here is chapter 3, what I call the 'fun chapter'! Because _nothing_ happens, only Elizabeth and Darcy having fun. Thanks to each reader, reviewer, each one of you who followed and favourited this story. And to darling PutItBriefly, my salvation in the dark sea of uncountable nouns. English is nasty.

* * *

"I would rather avoid long excursions on the grounds to-day, Bingley."

Bingley blinked at his friend. "Oh."

"I found our last visit to the landowners particularly taxing. I would not wish to impose on your hospitality further, were I to become ill."

"Of course."

Dear Jane appeared in the breakfast parlour, a calm smile playing on her lips. She curtsied. "Good morning, sir."

The guest bowed. "Good morning, Mrs. Bingley."

"You must excuse my sister. She woke up very early and had breakfast before retiring in her chambers again—a nasty headache, I understand."

"All our guests are at risk of becoming ill!" Bingley cried. "Darcy wishes to stay indoors to-day!"

"I only hope you will not be too bored in the house."

"If I have your permission, I shall employ my time in your library for the day."

All seated around the breakfast table, Bingley cleared his throat. "I shall meet with my steward nonetheless, Darcy. I am sorry if I leave you alone."

"Not at all. Do not be concerned for me."

Breakfast was more subdued than the previous day, but the special guest did not seem to mind. When the servants began to take empty cups and plates away, Darcy excused himself.

Left alone with his wife, Bingley allowed himself a loud sigh.

Jane pressed his hand with hers. "No need to worry. If he wishes to stay in the house to-day, that will not be an obstacle. Lizzy is probably spending her day in her apartments."

Bingley hesitated as a deep frown touched his brow. "I have a confession to make."

"Indeed?"

"I told Darcy about Lizzy—well, about the unpleasant effects his presence brought to her spirits."

Jane's hand found her mouth to cover a faint gasp. "Oh, Charles."

"Darcy has such a sense of politeness, he would never be blatantly angry or irritated with me, but during our second trip to that bloody, horrid pond, he—well, he spoke of his, er, confusion."

"Poor Mr. Darcy."

"It was not a pleasing task. The intelligence upset him, but he understood the circumstances. I think he was saddened to learn about Lizzy's feelings."

His wife's hand curled against his cheek in a tender stroke. "It cannot be helped."

"I suspect he may still have a _tendre_ for your sister."

"Oh Charles, I am so sorry for your friend's heart!"

"Darcy is a very reserved kind of man. He would not indulge in pain too long—certainly not when in company—nor would he act on design to make anyone uncomfortable. I think he would be pleased if we lend him a hand to be more at ease for the remaining of his stay here."

Jane's hand moved to his shoulder, squeezing in sympathy. "Perhaps, we may do that with less excursions."

"Definitely."

* * *

The guest did not feel sorry at all; nor did the mistress's sister.

As soon as he stepped in the library, safely closing the door behind him, Elizabeth's bright smile welcomed him. She eagerly went into his open arms, marvelling at the simple thought she _could_ do such thing. "Good morning!"

"Good morning to you, my love. I trust you slept well."

Elizabeth, red in cheeks, beamed. "Very well, though—well, I did not have _that_ much rest."

It was Darcy's turn to turn scarlet.

They had left the one another's company in the dead of the night, after heated kisses; after eager hands had explored, only when their curiosity had been sated.

"I am sorry," he hesitated, guilt in his eye. "I have thought about our—er, activities, and I regret my behaviour. We were engaged for barely _minutes_ —"

"Come, we shall talk," Elizabeth interjected and pulled him to the sofa, in front of the imposing shelves. She had learned, passion could escalate quickly. She had learned, chastity was rather a precarious thing. At last, she had learned she _could_ feel shame, but was not particularly moved by it—and that, itself, should have evoked some guilt. "Last evening, I did not," a long sigh escaped her again, and, "intend to lock you in this library _and_ seduce you."

"You did not _seduce_ me, and I most certainly never thought such thing."

"I thank you, but you must admit it was indelicate! When I pushed you on that chair and…" a nervous giggle, and, "oh dear, you must think me exceedingly silly."

"No, I think you very eager, which flatters me."

"When Bingley informed me of your visit, my chief object was to convey my regard to you," she confessed, something akin to shyness in her voice. "I wished to employ flirtation, to engage you in talk, to laugh with you."

At that, Darcy started, but then delight flashed in his eyes, anything else forgot."You intended to _court_ me?"

Entirely flushed, she giggled. "Yes! But my dear sister and brother made such benign intentions impossible to put into practice."

"You are quite cross with them."

"Of course I am! They ruined my plan to behave properly and express my heart's wishes with grace and finesse! Even _Jane_ —my dear, favourite sister Jane!"

"Think no more of it. They love you deeply and acted with the best of intentions in mind."

Her palm reached to cup his cheek. "You are such a virtuous man. I do wonder whether I am truly a good match for you. For my part, I would not mind to take the small pleasure to tease them."

Darcy frowned.

Mischief shimmered in her eyes. "We shall do that, sir. Have you not been frustrated by the endless interruptions? You have been dragged around half the country! We shall hide our new understanding and find amusement in secrecy."

"Is that a _vendetta_ of some sorts?"

"I suppose."

"I cannot pretend to understand it."

"I am a disagreeable creature, sir. Secret _rendezvous_ as our hosts try to keep us parted—it shall be exceedingly amusing, do you not agree?"

Darcy, dear man he was, conceded her a short time for that amusement. He wished to go to ask her father's blessing as soon as it was possible. Elizabeth could hardly fault him. He would be off to town soon and wished everything to be settled and official by then.

She offered her mouth, and he happily accepted her kiss.

But he admitted, "I still think it is rather odd."

Her eyebrow arched. "I would say _petty_ , sir."

"It is delightfully honest from you, you know," he observed, and his arms sneaked about her figure to have her closer. "You may be only a little petty, but entirely honest."

"Too good and upright, Mr. Darcy."

Playfulness, they learned, was yet another spark leading to passion. Elizabeth thought Darcy loved to wipe her teasing words from her lips with his tongue; his mouth swallowed her laughter; his hands silenced every wit in her brain when they trailed along her arms, along the lines of her body.

Minutes later, when they abandoned the dangers of the sofa and moved, _finally_ , to the chessboard, Jane dashed in the library.

As serious and virtuous as Darcy was, he could hardly conceal his mirth when Jane's candid expression paled in pure concern.

"Lizzy, Mr. Darcy! Oh, dear—Lizzy, I thought you to be in your chambers!"

Sweetly, the sister replied, "I am not."

Jane observed them, a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Your headache?"

"I found my head dulled and decided for some mental exercise. Mr. Darcy was kind enough to indulge my whims."

"How kind indeed."

Darcy offered one of his handsome, brilliant smiles. "I am happy to be of help." Of course, he failed to mention his mouth and hands had been soothing her unfortunate sister until she could hardly catch a breath, until words gave way to sighs and giggles. The chessboard had proved to be a necessary distraction.

"I should like to stay here with you," Jane announced. "I may even learn more about the game, I suppose."

"Oh, then do sit here, dear. Watch with a critical eye as Mr. Darcy and I play. It may be enlightening."

What Jane learned, however, had little to do with the rules of the game. Chess was still obscure to her. Instead, her admiration for Mr. Darcy grew. All he did was _smile_ , in spite of the unease he must have in his heart.

* * *

"Your friend is a true gentleman."

Bingley, still ruffled from his excursion, threw a worried glance in the library from the hallway. "They are alone in there."

"Yes, and they are arguing—well, I am not entirely sure if they truly are, though—about the two previous games. Lizzy is teasing him, I think, and he is graceful as ever."

"But dearest, did we not agree that leaving them to their devices was rather a risky idea?"

"Oh, yes! And we shall go to spend time with them at once, but—well, Mr. Darcy's spirits, from my understanding, are in a good state. He smiles a lot, he seems quite happy, I daresay, he _likes_ to be teased." Jane paused, delicate wrinkles forming on her brow. "He seems to care more about Lizzy's comfort than his own heartache."

Bingley spied on the couple. "He is a remarkable fellow, I told you."

"Let us rejoin them, then, and let us hope your friend will win this game."

Once inside, they found a combative Elizabeth and a weary—but amused—Darcy.

Bingley peeked at the board. "Lizzy, are you feeling better?"

"I am, Charles thank you—though, I would feel better if your friend paid me the compliment of his honesty and admitted he allowed me to win the last two games on purpose." To express all her indignation, her foot, safely hidden beneath the table, sneaked to torment his calf.

"I did not do such thing," Darcy claimed, shifting on his seat. "Rather, you surprised me with your deep knowledge of strategies of the game."

As Jane and Bingley sat around them to observe the game—to guard the two players, rather—Elizabeth retreated her wayward foot and huffed. "Well, I can hardly believe you. You must be accomplished in the game. You cannot lose to an unpolished, poor, country lady!"

"Now you are voicing opinions that are not yours, Miss Bennet."

"And Darcy, say!" Bingley interjected hastily, leaning forwards. "When did you learn to play?"

"My mother taught me. I was… twelve? No more than thirteen, I believe. We played quite often together."

Elizabeth made her move on the board, but was more interested in Darcy's words. "Your mother taught you?"

"Yes. My father was simply uninterested in the game. She sought a companion in her amusement and I was an eager learner."

"It is rather odd for a lady to teach a son to play chess," Elizabeth observed. "She must have been very accomplished, then."

"She was, but she only liked chess. I remember she never particularly liked cards or gambling, or any other games of the same nature."

"Then, sir," Jane chimed in, "you must choose to marry a lady who is a skilled chess player to entertain you."

At that innocent remark, Darcy coloured deeply. Slouched forwards, he refused to look anywhere but on the surface of the board.

But Elizabeth—although slightly pink in cheeks—giggled. "Why Jane! The future Mrs. Darcy shall be very accomplished indeed. I remember, Mr. Darcy, you had clear ideas about this score. She shall be a proficient in dancing, playing the piano and singing, painting, she shall possess a solid education and, now, she shall also be a perfect player!"

"I discovered, Miss Bennet," the gentleman said, "that perhaps the substance of her character, rather than a mere list of activities, has more bearing in the choice of a partner." His gaze finally lifted to hers, the moment his fingers wrapped around his black knight and moved it towards the white pieces. Then, he simply grinned—in that endearing, amused way of his, the way that called the butterflies in her belly to fly freely. "I am of the idea that living with perfect player for the rest of my life shall be rather boring and tedious."

"Oh!" Bingley cried, surprised. "You shall cry off, Lizzy. Darcy won—is that right, Darcy?"

"Well, I have not won yet, but I will in the next turn."

It was Elizabeth's turn to flush. Her eyes dropped to the board. His black knight had entrapped her King. She could still move some of her rooks, but it would not reach his knight in only one move. "Oh well, I suppose I shall step from this game graciously. Well done, sir."

Jane sighed in relief.

As the party relocated in the drawing-room, Darcy touched Elizabeth's arm. "I did not," he whispered, "let you win on purpose."

"Are you telling the truth?"

"I am."

"Well, then I shall believe you. Though, I must confess that I know it."

"Oh?"

"I would have been truly crossed had you done such thing! But I know you are not one to deceive me in such a way. And well, the astonishing truth is, my wish was to tease you—quite mercilessly."

Then, dear Jane, with a mildly reproachful look, came to snatch her arm and tug her away from Darcy, leading her to her sewing basket and stitches.

* * *

It was _unfortunate_ that Jane had demanded the separation of sexes after dinner.

"You shall tell me more about chess!" She had said, with an edge in her tone. "Charles still has some cigars left to offer to his friend."

The poor sister had had some scant seconds to throw a look laden with longing at her Mr. Darcy. It had been a comfort that he had taken on an expression laden with regret, that had stared at an awkward Bingley as if he were culpable of the worst crime.

So, dragged in a small sitting-room—the horrid sitting-room at the bottom of a secondary hallway, dull and filled with old, dusty, distasteful furnishing—Elizabeth could only hope that her dear sister would not insist to sew some more.

Jane did not. She herself, however, focused on her handkerchief. As the needle sank in the colourful petal of a daffodil, Jane said, "Mr. Darcy is a good man."

Elizabeth started. "Yes, he is."

"He is kind."

"Yes."

"And very forbearing."

"Yes… Jane?"

"Lizzy, you have such a lively nature, and Mr. Darcy is so gracious, but you shall not tease him so! You are so spirited, my dear and he is such great a man… "

"You are saying I should not risk offending him?"

"No, you see, he may—oh, he may be uncomfortable after… what has occurred in the past between the two of you."

Elizabeth's eyebrows shot high in her forehead. Dear Jane! Fretting over the state of Mr. Darcy's heart! "Oh, I shall not do that. I am fairly sure to say he seems happy about our circumstances as they are in the present."

" _I_ am not sure… "

Of course she was not, Elizabeth thought wryly. Bingley and Jane had meddled in the affair to the point Darcy had been convinced his very presence in Hertfordshire was offending to her. The thought was enough to quell any welling guilt. "We have become friends, Mr. Darcy and I. I am sure he shall manage to bear my lively disposition for the rest of his visit—he is such a proper, gracious gentleman! Did you not say such thing as yourself?"

"Lizzy—"

"And I," she added with on a cheerful note, "shall suffer his gallant behaviour for some more. Truly, Jane, you need not to fret so! Why, I have been in the company of the gentleman for such _short_ time—after all, he is always so engaged elsewhere with Charles, and I, with you!—I am sure it is not worthy of further dwelling."

Unconvinced, Jane returned to her stitched daffodil. Elizabeth, on her part, allowed her fancy to wander back to her dear Mr. Darcy. If there was a small consolation, she supposed, it was that, once their betrothal would be made public—and they would be safely wed, in time!—Jane would be a splendid sister to Darcy.

Until that time, however, she remained the means of separating her from Darcy. And so, Elizabeth offered a sweet smile, stood, and declared her wish to hunt for a good reading, leaving Jane to her musings in the ugly room.

She would be waiting for her return, so Elizabeth had to be quick in her adventure. Standing half hidden on threshold of the drawing-room where the men were spending the evening, she spied on Darcy.

When he caught her eye, his cigar almost slipped from his lip. Elizabeth's mouth twisted in a mischievous smile, her index finger wriggling in a shameless invitation.

Darcy found her in a remote nook of the hallway. His curious, delighted smile shimmered in the dimness, the light becoming clearer with every stride that brought him to closer. When he pressed a kiss on her cheek, she giggled quietly. "Really, sir, you have no creativity! What poor excuse to leave the room!"

"The smell of cigar can truly be taxing on the senses, you know."

"So Jane says."

"And what did you tell your sister?"

"That I wished to hunt for a book. I shall go to the library and take one, otherwise she could become suspecting."

His eyebrow arched. "How greatly imaginative _you_ are."

With her pout angled upwards, she huffed, "I did not come here to be teased, sir!"

"No," he agreed, his arms finally drawing her near. "Of course not—what might you be doing here, then?"

Instead of presenting a reply, she presented her lips. Pressing them firmly against his, her eyes fluttered closed as he kindly allowed her tongue to trace the softness of his lips.

"A goodnight kiss, then," he later murmured in her neck as she arched closer, her arms tight about his neck.

She gave a breathless laugh in the soft silk of his cravat. When his lips moved to leave flames burning on her jaw, her throat, her collarbones, she sighed, then giggled again—a bit louder this time, a sound of delight and giddiness. "The smell of cigar is not so nasty, you know."

A quiet gasp escaped Darcy when it was _she_ , this time, that nuzzled his neck, fingers pulling at the fabric of his cravat to reveal more skin. She was not content in only smelling him. Her open mouth slid greedily on his flesh, scraping and licking at it, until Darcy—so flushed, chest shaken by shallow breaths—tugged at her hair and forced her mouth to his again.

A squeak of pure, unadulterated delight bubbled from her throat when his palms dropped from her hips to her backside and wrenched her impossibly closer, his tongue and mouth smothering any other moan, any gasps—

And right then, Darcy pushed her away.

Elizabeth staggered back on weak legs; fortunately not as weak to cause any ungracious tumble on the floor.

"I do not think you need my help, Miss Bennet."

Between a frown and a pant, she asked, "I beg your pardon?"

"You need not my help to find a book, I trust."

"Darcy! Here you are, I thought you bloody became lost—oh Lord, Lizzy!"

Bingley seemed to have appeared from mist, but now was real and solid. He was plagued, a combination of confusion and concern. His gaze moved back and forth across the gulf between the two.

"I met Miss Bennet while she was on her path to the library," Darcy began—heeding little their location, quite far from the library—as Bingley frowned. "And she requested some help in her choice of reading."

The host binked, face blank. "I see."

Elizabeth sighed—fully dismayed, only slightly relieved. But she said, "You understand, Charles, stitches and threads could be quite a tedious company for the whole evening."

"Er, yes, I suppose."

Poor Bingley was so distressed! Darcy, on his part, however, was so calm, his features so relaxed, so composed—barely betraying the passion that had shaken him scant moments before—that Elizabeth could only be in wonder, while the phantom of his kiss and touch seemed still lingering on her. How utterly irksome. "I asked your friend for advice," she explained, "but he offered none."

"Miss Bennet, even though you claim you are no great reader, I am sure you are able to choose for yourself."

"You flatter me, sir—yet, I thought your action truly unhelpful, you know."

Poor Bingley was left to listen to the debate in a helpless silence.

"What is your meaning?"

"Do not be obtuse, sir!" Her lips—still tingling, perhaps swollen—curved on their own will. "You kept me here, while I should have gone to pursue my intent!"

Darcy shrugged, but a glinting light danced in his eyes. "I did not such thing, ma'am."

"You distracted me from my quest, Mr. Darcy—do not dare to deny it!"

He crossed his arms and pressed his lips tightly together, struggling against that handsome, playful grin she adored so much. "You were the one lingering here, if I am not mistaken."

Bingley—poor, clueless Bingley—jumped in with something akin to exasperation in his tone. "Darcy! You cigar is waiting for you, come—excuse us, Lizzy."

Elizabeth smiled at him. "Of course, I shall be not be the _one_ distracting you, sir."

Darcy bent in a gallant bow. "By all means, you are now free to seek your reading."

"I shall do that with much pleasure, sir. Good night, gentlemen."

Elizabeth giggled her way to the library, as Bingley and Darcy went to other way. Bingley—poor soul—was unmistakably whispering, babbling about something.

She turned the corner, but Darcy's quiet laugh reached her nonetheless, a giddy warmth coursing through her bones.


	4. Chapter 4

So, this chapter only needed some "minor" adjustments, but my academic career needed major adjustments, hence the lateness of this update. I worked on this chapter a bit, yet I am not entirely satisfied with it. I may change something in the future, who knows! Nevertheless, I hope you will enjoy it. Thanks for everyone who put up with my silly story! You guys rock. Special mention to PutItBriefly, who beta'd this chapter (well, the whole story, actually) and is always encouraging and a sweetie.

* * *

On the bushy path to Longbourn, Darcy's eyes jerked to Bingley and Jane. They walked ahead, but the distance was short. Bingley had proposed a call on Longbourn, seeing the morning sky was free from any menacing clouds.

Elizabeth happily went on. "Or, how they could not prevent the inevitable fate to-day! Poor Charles. Did you see his face when I suggested the wedded couple should be paired together to lead the way? He looked positively worried."

"That was wicked of you, I must admit."

"No more than being forbid to court you," she countered flippantly. "And I will not allow you to chide me, you know. Yesterday, I saw your countenance when Jane came to the library, or even when _you_ teased me in front of Charles!"

His eyebrow arched, he peered down at her. "I fully restrained my mirth—rather admirably, I daresay."

"Oh yes! You are always so stern, sir, that when you are amused, I can see it at once on your face!"

Darcy shrugged. "That is quite common and natural."

"Of course! It was not meant to chide you. You," she eyed him fondly, with a crooked grin "you have a very expressive countenance—as well as beautiful eyes. You are incredibly handsome, my dear, when you smile, when you laugh. I find myself admiring you greatly."

His pace come to an abrupt halt. A deep shade of red spread up to the tips of his ears. "Why—this is… I thank you, you are too kind."

At the sight of his embarrassment, of his gloved hand covering his mouth, she blinked, but soon a giggle surged from her lips. How she longed to to kiss that blush away!

But of course, it was not to be.

"Lizzy!" Bingley called. "What is it with you, to-day? You are awfully slow to walk."

"I am not!" The two couples were soon walking side by side. Jane and Bingley were some unwitting chaperones of sorts, even though they must have believed to be akin to parents guarding children. "Rather, it is Mr. Darcy who is slow, you know. He is gentlemanly enough to slow his long legs down and indulge my idleness."

"You are not a slow walker, Miss Bennet."

"I am not, you believe? Then, the only explanation, is that _you_ are, sir!"

"I enjoy slow walks," Jane chimed in. "I like very much ambling about and enjoying the sight. I find no faults in this, truly!"

Dear Jane! Darcy's champion, indeed! Elizabeth laughed merrily and, at length, agreed with her.

* * *

"It has been quite few months since we have last seen each other, Miss Catherine. I hope you are well."

Darcy bowed in front of her and Kitty looked terrified. "Yes! Thank you! I hope you as well, sir!"

Elizabeth sighed as Kitty curtsied clumsily and fled Darcy's presence, running in the music room to seek shelter in Mary's company. The poor gentleman frowned. Elizabeth, in turn, offered only a shrug.

Mrs. Bennet seemed surprised to see the tall gentleman appear. It was quite an odd sight, his tall figure standing stiffly, albeit with an air of elegance, among the familiar walls of Longbourn.

The matron, after a couple of questions to the gentleman—was his counsel so necessary to Bingley, was not his steward enough? Were the advices profitable?—seemed to be bored with his clipped replies and opted, unfortunately, for another subject.

The universe had conspired against her, thought Elizabeth. That day, Lydia had written.

"My child!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "Oh—she is not a regular correspondent, for she is always so busy!"

"How is she, Mama?" Jane asked.

"Why, well indeed! But she is in good health—poor dear, though! She feels Mr. Wickham's commitment to the army keenly. Why, he is too always so busy!"

"She does not feel lonely, I hope?"

"Oh, Mr. Wickham is an attentive husband," was the reply, accompanied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "He is an excellent man. Lydia shall be well, I am sure."

All of this Elizabeth suffered in silence, sipping her tea. Darcy was seated away from her. She dared not to steal a peek at his face.

Mrs. Bennet went on, "I am surprised she has not written to you, Jane! Oh, that girl, I advised her to write you more often."

"I should like to hear more from her! Lyddie is so far away! I am sure her husband is kind to her, yet I do hope she makes new friends."

"My child is bright, she will find many friends. But, Jane, you care about your sister very much—you are such a good girl—and Lydia is in need of help, you see."

At that, Jane started. "In need of help?"

"In her letter, she wrote she wishes for a new pelisse. Newcastle, what a horridly cold place it is! Oh, and a new gown too! There are some assemblies to attend… "

No words came from Elizabeth, even though her mouth opened, then shut. Her gaze, this time, was inevitably pulled to Darcy. His impassive face betrayed nothing, except for the familiar icy shade in his eyes. Her cheeks burned fiercely. To talk of such things in his presence—he, who had helped her family so greatly!—he, who had already generously paid Wickham!

Her eyes dropped on the carpet. Had her mother no shame? Had she to talk freely of familiar matters in front of him?

The Bingleys, however, were gracious as ever. Bingley smiled, albeit awkwardly. "If Mrs. Wickham wishes to write to my wife to ask for er, a favour, we are surely willing to discuss the matter, Mrs. Bennet."

"Yes," Jane agreed. "If Liddie writes, we shall be happy to listen to her needs."

"You are so good, Mr. Bingley!" The matron cried, "If only _all men_ were as kind as you with their friends!"

There was no way Elizabeth could burn with shame even more, but that seemed the case.

Thank the Lord, Mr. Bennet appeared in the drawing-room in that moment.

The men stood and perfunctorily bowed.

Mr. Bennet only arched a curious eyebrow. "Oh, do not bother. I thought you came here to aid your friend, Mr. Darcy, not to visit the silliest household in the county."

The matron huffed. "Mr. Bennet, do not talk in such a way to our guest!"

Mr. Bennet chuckled. "Lydia still graces us with her complaints, so I wager my statement stands correct. Gentlemen, I am sure you had enough of all this—come, shall my port tempt you?" He gestured for the hallway, then, "I should like to hear such great a man's opinion about matters of land. Bingley praised it quite abundantly and my curiosity is picked."

Between the mother's embarrassing babbling and the father's sharpness, Darcy seemed to prefer the latter. He hesitated, standing awkwardly on his feet, threw a he glanced at Elizabeth, then thanked her father. With Bingley, he bowed and the two disappeared in the hallway.

Elizabeth sighed, only half relieved—her father surely was less taxing than her mother, surely. Or so, she hoped.

"I do not know how you poor girls," the mother sniffled, "suffer the presence of such taciturn, insufferable man under your roof."

Jane's porcelain cheeks turned scarlet. "Mama, Mr. Darcy is a great friend of my husband's. He is a good man."

"Good, he may be—and rich—but he barely opens his mouth to talk in company he considers beneath his station. So rude, so willing to bore people!" She gave an energetic shake of her head, then added, "I wonder how you could ever bear his company."

Elizabeth wondered how he, Darcy, could ever bear it—her family's company, the impropriety, the carelessness. _She_ could barely suffer it.

* * *

By the time they were back to Netherfield Hall, Elizabeth's spirit were low. Walking had proved to be powerless on her mood.

"Lizzy," Jane touched her shoulder. "Would you like to retire with me and prepare for the evening? Perhaps you wish to talk?"

Not even Jane and Bingley's cheerfulness and goodness could heal her embarrassment and Darcy's quietness did not quell her unease. She bit her lip. How she wished to talk to him. "No, dear, thank you. I should like to rest alone, before that—if you do not mind, that is."

"Of course I do not," the sister assured. "But if you are in need of company, pray do not hesitate to come to me."

With a strained smile, Elizabeth excused herself from company. Darcy caught her gaze as she went. She prayed he would follow her, leaving the Bingleys with whatever ridiculous excuse he could think of. As long as he would come to her.

She strode about the house. The library, this time, would not do. Jane and Bingley would easily find them. That horrid, dull sitting-room was her choice. The ugly green wallpaper and dusty furniture would suit her gloomy mood admirably.

She waited for Darcy on the threshold, spying on the hallway. She first heard footsteps, then she saw him. This time, Elizabeth had the good sense to avoid to snatch him and drag him where she wished. Instead, she watched for him to cross the threshold, then closed the door quietly.

Inside the room, with an impassive face, Darcy was unwilling to break the silence. He seemed deep in thoughts, barely acknowledging her presence. He had not even spared a look to her, not even a kiss—how _silly_!

Observing him, her fingers balled in fists. Perhaps her family had successfully brought back to surface his former reservations and doubts?

But she knew better, she _had_ to. She reached out to him, her open palm laying on his arm. "Mr. Darcy?"

The gentleman seemed to shake from his errant thoughts. The faint curve on his lips brought relief, but it was his words which were most powerful: "Forgive me, dear. I was dwelling upon your father. When he invited me and Bingley to his study, I was tempted to request a private audience."

"Oh!"

"I cannot wait to present you as my betrothed to—well, to _everyone_."

In spite of the pleasant whirlwind of emotions, as any foolish doubt disappeared, guilt arose. Her pettiness and silliness had put his determination to a halt, as short as it was. Her fingers reached for his. It was time to abandon her amusement. "We could make an announcement," she said on a gentle, guilty smile, "at dinner, to-night. Then, to-morrow, to Longbourn we go again."

Light broke on his face. "Thank you."

As she beamed back at him, the thrill of being able to present him to the world as her future companion of her life shook her heart. She longed for it as much as Darcy. Yet, she knew, reality would intrude. Her family's reaction—his family's as well—the visits to her neighbours, the queue of curious well-wishers, the preparations for the wedding—everything would come into their small bubble. It was not, however, a daunting bargain to her. She would shield Darcy from gossip, from general unpleasantness of the neighbourhood. And he, she knew, would defend her against any protest of his family..

His voice pulled her from her dwellings. "I am pained to suspend your amusement, you know."

With a mischievous grin, she leaned closer to him. "Are clandestine meetings forbid at Pemberley, sir? Because, I believe, if they are not, we shall have our trysts—and if they are deemed unacceptable under your roof, then, I say, they shall be even more exciting."

Darcy laughed, then he said nothing. He only welcomed her in his arms, his face buried deep in her hair. Beneath her hand, his heart raced madly. "I can barely wait," he murmured at last, "to have you at Pemberley. I cannot believe—forgive me, but you will _truly_ be at Pemberley."

"Yes, I shall be at Pemberley—as your wife."

"Wife," he repeated and stepped back, only slightly, just for his gaze to seek hers. "Elizabeth, in less than month will be one year since I the dreadful day I proposed, and I can scarcely believe you will be my wife—I had no hopes back then, after… "

When only yet another smile replaced words, when silence seemed to be winning over his voice, Elizabeth felt her eyes stinging. Her hands cupped his cheeks and she laughed against the surging tears. On a whisper, she could only say, "I know."

Of course Elizabeth knew. Her own hopes had been crushed when he had disappeared after the wedding. Even when he had retreated to his usual aloofness, days ago, her spirits had taken a blow.

But it mattered not, because their lips had met now, just like they had, somehow, found each other again.

He was kissed her fiercely, the crushing need of closeness also too familiar to her to be ignored. His hungry mouth pressed on hers again with more urgency, more frenzy, again and again.

Elizabeth could not say how her back, later, came to be pressed against the horrid, green tapestry of the wall. She could not even say how she found herself clinging at his neck as her feet had left the floor, when he had lifted her. It was only the heat that pervaded her wit and senses—the heat of his fingers digging in her thighs, the burning of his body pressed between her legs. So close to him, so hungry for his taste, she could hardly put together any thought.

That dull, small room spun madly, but Darcy held her fast against the wall, against him. Desire, it seemed, served only to render them reckless. His hands worked to bare her legs from layers of skirts, greedy in their pursuit of her bare flesh, as a trail of flames was left on her neck, robbing her of her breath, as his tongue, teeth, lips went lower and lower, but his hand was creeping upwards.

Elizabeth's quiet gasp did not go unheard—nor, unfortunately, Jane's loud one.

It was Elizabeth who first got a glimpse of her sister.

Just like that, the heat was gone. Darcy sprang away from her, and the pile of untidy skirts fell to cover Elizabeth's legs back to decency. Once her feet touched the floor again, among heavy breaths and quick heartbeats echoing in her ears, the unmistakable noise of the door clicking shut echoed in the room.

Then, silence reigned.

Mortification and shame seized Elizabeth with a vicious force, so much that her eyes fell on the floor under their oppressive weight, and under the naked shock on Jane's features.

It was Darcy, her dear Mr. Darcy, who had the good sense to break the strained stillness with a bow to Jane. "There is nothing I can say, Mrs. Bingley, to apologise for what you have just witnessed."

The mistress made no answer. She—pale, shock still mudding angelic features—only moved closer to the guilty pair.

Darcy went on, "Mrs. Bingley, I can promise that such thing will never take to place again under your roof."

"What have _I_ witnessed? Sir, I do heartily appreciate apologies, but I would rather have an explanation."

What was there to explain? Jane, as married woman, must have been familiar with she had just seen. Elizabeth chewed on her lip. "Jane—"

But the mistress of the house had eyes for the gentleman only. Impossibly red in face, Jane stood with stubborn fists clenched on her side, her gaze squarely on the man. "Sir, I understand your feelings about my sister must be hard to bear, as my husband informed you of the circumstances. You have all my sympathy, for your heart must be broken." She paused, coloured further, her eyes faltering for scant seconds, but soon she recovered: "You, sir, are a great friend to my husband and to me, indeed, but we shall never tolerate your seduction of my sister, especially not in our home."

Colour drained from Darcy's face. At that, he started and from his parted mouth, no words came.

The accusation struck Elizabeth as hard. She reached for her sister's hand. "The fault is all mine, Jane."

"Lizzy?"

"My dear Jane, if there is someone whom must be charged with such accusation is me. I beg you not to accuse Mr. Darcy of such things."

"I fail to understand, Lizzy. It is _you_ who had just seduced _him_?"

Perhaps. Whatever her Mr. Darcy claimed, it was, after all, _she_ who had locked him in a room at night and had, however awkwardly, professed love. That, however, Jane need not to know. "No. Mr. Darcy and I are engaged to be married."

"You are joking, Lizzy. This cannot be!—Engaged to Mr. Darcy! No, no, you shall not deceive me. I know it to be _impossible_."

"I am not deceiving you."

"Are you truly serious, Lizzy?"

"Oh, yes," she dared to smile, and, "if a seduction took place, it was on common agreement of the parties involved, I fear."

Darcy cleared his throat. "We are betrothed, Mrs. Bingley."

"Good Heavens! Can it be really so! Yet now I must believe you!" Jane's porcelain skin disappeared in favour of a crimson shade, as she hastily turned to the gentleman. "Sir! How can I ever make amends for my words!"

"Mrs. Bingley—"

Jane bent her head in front of Darcy. "I shall never be in the position to have your forgiveness! To think so maliciously of you, I am heartily ashamed!"

Had the situation been different, Elizabeth would have a good laugh at it. The first time Jane had ever thought ill of someone in her life! And it had been with such poor timing! For all her candour, Jane had been the one to have a horrid judgement!—and, for all the championing of Mr Darcy for the last days, there was no doubt Jane was a tigress when it concerned her sister.

Darcy bowed stiffly. "Er, ma'am, such reaction is unwarranted. I comprehend how that display must have looked to your eyes. I am ashamed—"

"Oh gracious! Forgive me, sir, had I but known!" She frowned, the task of mending mistakes suspended. "Why had I not known? When had this alliance been formed?"

All Elizabeth could offer was a strained smile laden with guilt. "We have been engaged for a couple of days."

"And you have not told me?"

"No, as you now know. There is a good reason for it, you must believe me, but I shall explain to you later—I fear you may be displeased with it."

"I would not! As I am not displeased with this new intelligence. Oh, Lizzy! I am so sorry for my rudeness, but—oh! Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more delight. But we believed it as impossible."

Well, that much had been _abundantly_ clear, but such topic was better left unmentioned for now. Darcy seemed to agree, for he kept his mouth shut about it. Explanations for her silliness and pettiness, Elizabeth reasoned, could come later. No need to spoil the merriment.

"Mr. Darcy, Lizzy, I am so very happy about your alliance."

"As I am," Elizabeth grinned, her grip on Jane's cool fingers still firm. "You see Jane, when you and Charles first got engaged, you told me that I shall not marry for anything less than affection—you remember, my dear, I hope?"

"Yes, certainly."

"I guarantee you, I shall not settle for anything less than love. We shall be very happy—and even happier if we have your blessing and forgiveness—"

"You _love_ me?"

The sisters were pulled from that elation. Darcy's stiff form stood in front of them. His dear face lacked the usual composure, if not _worse._

Elizabeth frowned at him. "Mr. Darcy?"

"You have never," he said, voice thick, "mentioned love to me."

"I did not? _Oh._ "

He stared at her in pure bewilderment. "You most certainly did not."

Darling Jane had always possessed a good dose of wisdom. "I shall leave you now." At the door, she said, "I shall return with Charles in a _short_ time."

Left alone, Elizabeth stared at a rather mute Darcy. Had she been so foolish to omit the most important thing to speak? Days, _months,_ she had been yearning to speak those words, torn between heartache and forlorn hope. In the pure whirlwind of the delight of present days, she had _forgot._

How utterly foolish!

Her lips pressed together to struggle against the surging giggle. Instead, she went to her Mr. Darcy with a beaming face. The feeling of his cheek beneath her palm was familiar by now, as was his closeness, yet her heart still danced. "I, perhaps, do not love you as well as I should like, but I _do_ love you. I have been loving you for the whole summer, the whole winter, even when any hope seemed inane."

His palm pressed her hand firmer against his cheek. "And I love you still, I hope you are aware of it."

"Yes." She had known, of course. Yet, she thought, the last time she had heard such tender words was at Hunsford. It seemed that Darcy, too, had been distracted. The yearning in his tone, the unbridled love underneath it, made her long for the future. She would unravel everyday in those words, in his love. "But, much like you, I should like hearing it quite often, you know _."_

"Always."

* * *

Upon the announcement, Bingley was momentarily stunned to muteness. Then, his joy was as great as Jane's.

Good man he was, he apologized. "Darcy, I am so sorry my opinion on the matter was so grossly wrong! My words must have broken your heart."

" _You_ did not break my heart," the gentleman assured. "But I must say, Miss Bennet's knowledge on the matter was infinitely better than yours."

Bingley burst into a laugh. "Old dog, I hope you shall forgive me and still place your trust in me, in the future!" To his wife, he said, "Oh, my dearest, how could we be so wrong?"

"They have been engaged for some days," Jane pointed out. "We have truly been blind, I suppose—oh, we meant kindly, you must believe us, yet we have been so wrong."

Bingley frowned. "Engaged for _days_?"

Oh, her precious amusement really must come to an end. Elizabeth tried to smile as beatifically as her sister usually did, but, clearly, she was not as good. "Yes, Charles, I am so sorry to say I have been very exasperated by your plans to keep Mr. Darcy and myself divided,"—at this, Bingley had the good sense to colour—"we have kept it a secret for some days. To, well, to tease you."

Her sister gasped. "Lizzy!"

"Is it true, Darcy?"

"I am afraid so, Bingley."

"Oh, do not blame Mr. Darcy! It was all my fault, I assure you. I am, unfortunately, not as saintly as he is."

A bewildered Bingley cried, "But he agreed to partake to your schemes!"

"He aims to please, Charles—well, he _did_ please me. I hope you shall consider forgiveness within your powers."

"But, Lizzy—oh, how wicked! You are always so teasing, dear and you were teasing _me_!"

"And me as well!" Bingley exclaimed, with a noise—incredibly—akin to an indignant huff.

"I find there is little evil in some teasing, every now and then."

Jane shook her head at Elizabeth's remark, and Bingley sighed. "Well, I suppose our bad judgement brought this upon us. As long as you forgive our interference—misguided help, I should say."

"And my accusations!" Jane cried, turning to a flushed Darcy, who promptly dismissed any concern again.

"What did you accuse him of?"

"Oh, Charles, do not force me to repeat my words!"

"I can hardly credit you had ill thoughts about anyone—and about Darcy, of all people," her husband said drolly. "And since I do not believe you truly accused him of horrible crimes at a very inconvenient time, I shall succumb to your wish of secrecy."

Poor Jane seemed to burn, so scarlet she was.

"But now everything," Elizabeth said cheerfully, "is forgiven, I hope."

* * *

Indeed, it seemed merriment obscured any guilt.

The day Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy received Mr. Bennet's blessing to marry his daughter saw yet another, bright sunshine glimmering high in the clear sky.

In Longbourn, the Bennets women were all surprise and elation. Outside, walking about the garden, the Bingleys were as happy, and already acting as chaperones for the merry couple.

Elizabeth felt the emotions as keenly. She turned to her beloved, and asked, "Are you happy?"

"Very much so," Darcy's features brightened even more. "I shall be off to town with your father's permission to claim you as my betrothed in front of the world. I have been impatient to do so for almost one year."

Her fingers squeezed the crook of his arm and a wide grin played on her lips. "Shall I expect any dreadful visit from town, then? Perhaps a lady, whose hopes have been disappointed?"

He took on a grimace. "I will allow nothing of the kind to happen, I assure you."

"Oh? Is there truly this danger?"

"Lady Catherine, I wager, shall be vexed."

"I feared some heartbroken, handsome lady in tears whose hope was to be your wife—but I think I can manage with your aunt."

He tensed, his mouth taking a distasteful turn. "I will not allow any censure towards you."

"Shall you protect me?" she purred, then burst into a laugh. "I am very well able to handle her, I should like to believe!"

His eyes softened, glinting, as his mouth inevitably curved. "I know you are uncommonly fearless."

"Such compliments!"

She threw a quick glance behind her. Bingley and Jane seemed distracted enough, busy in some talk. She dared to stand on her tiptoes and press a swift kiss to his cheek.

"Darcy!"

"Lizzy!"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Her man, however, immediately turned to his friend, red burning up to the end of his ears. "Bingley?"

"Oh! Er, I need your help."

Elizabeth huffed. "Charles—"

"Mr. Bennet informed me that Mr. Thompson has agreed to clean the pond. He, too, wishes to work to improve the panorama of the grounds!"

Elizabeth looked askance at a cheerful Bingley as he snatched her betrothed from her arm to explain the business—and he also mentioned frogs, those dreadful creatures, that would undoubtedly ruin the beauty of the horrid pond once spring would bring more warmth. Ridiculous!

Jane was happy to side with Elizabeth on the path.

"Jane, darling, it is unnecessary for you to be so vigil, I am sure—"

Jane shook her head and happily ignored Elizabeth. "My father says the pond is an utter waste, but Mr. Thompson agrees that something must be done. Charles, as you know, is not unequal to the idea. Let him hear what dear Mr. Darcy has to say about this!"

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose.

"And—oh, Lizzy, pray, do not look at me in such a way!"

"I hope, my dear," Elizabeth began gingerly, "you remember _your_ engagement period."

"Lovely time! And my memory is such, I recall your being uncommonly kind with me."

And uncommonly _blind_ , Elizabeth thought with no low degree of frustration. To think she had been happy to play the role of the distracted chaperone! That was yet another betrayal!

"And I can assure you, Lizzy, your engagement time will go so quickly, you and Mr. Darcy will barely notice."

Elizabeth's smile was thin.

"I thank you, Mrs. Nichols. If Cook is unwell, fear not. She can easily rest to-night and worry about her well-being only."

To assure further the fretting housekeeper, Jane smiled angelically.

"Oh, ma'am! I shall make sure the servants in the kitchens will present an excellent dinner all the same."

"I trust you shall do that and more, but please do not fret so!"

It took a little more assurances for the housekeeper to regain her nerves. Yet, no one could truly remain unmoved by the mistress's candour and goodness. Once the issue was resolved, Jane was free to return her attention to her main task.

Of course, _they_ were in the library alone. Her sister and Mr. Darcy hardly had a moment together alone in these days—Mr. And Mrs. Bingley took their new duty seriously—and Jane was hardly surprised to hear their quiet voices coming in the hallway, right from the half-closed door of the library. Half-closed doors! When she had been an engaged woman, she had always kept doors open freely!

Her sister's voice came clearly, albeit low, "Jane was called by the housekeeper with a problem in the kitchens. Charles?"

"In his study with Mr. Thompson."

"We are alone."

"I can hardly believe it. Such chaperones, the Bingleys are."

Dear Jane bit her lip when Elizabeth's tone raised slightly. " _I_ have been such a patient, kind chaperones to them! And—oh, please, do not look at me so! I only wish to have a minute with you alone. We have been so busy."

"Your relatives and neighbours deserve all our attention. As well as my hosts, my love."

"I know it! I appreciate your forbearance and your civility. Yet—oh, Fitzwilliam! Five weeks seem _so_ long, do you not agree?"

In turn, Darcy's voice was tinged with amusement. "Eternal."

Scant seconds of silence and quiet laughter later, Elizabeth claimed, "I can hardly wait to have you at Pemberley—all for myself and for my wishes."

Darcy offered no reply, and that was enough to bring Jane forth and press the door wide open.

She found a flushed Darcy and a blushing Elizabeth. They could hardly fool a married woman and, she noted, they did not even bother to put a respectable distance between them. But Jane would _never_ roll her eyes so openly—especially not at her sister!

"Oh, Lizzy, Mr. Darcy, how fortunate, you are both here!"

Elizabeth hesitated, then, "Jane, is everything well in the kitchens?"

"Why, yes! We shall have dinner served to-night, my dear, fear not."

"Of course."

"Should you like a game of chess? I dearly wish to learn more! Will you kindly oblige me and play?"

Every person in her life knew Jane enough to praise her candid nature, her goodness. Jane would even be still ignorant of the meaning of the word _vendetta_ , had the circumstances been different. She would not embrace something _so_ unkind. The pettiness, the rudeness! Nothing of the kind was in her mind, truly.

Yet, she had learned—from her own, lovely sister, nonetheless—that there was little evil to be found in some teasing every now and then.

Settled between the pair at the chessboard, Jane smiled sweetly.

* * *

End


End file.
